Hiding
by geeklover89
Summary: Greg never told anyone about his parents,and with good reason. What happens when someone attacks him in his own lab and his secrets are finally revealed. Will his team be able to protect him,or will they be too late.
1. Prologue

Monday, May 6 2009 2:15 AM

"Greg! Are you alright!?"

'_Are you alright?'_

It was a simple question, a _stupid_ one, but a simple one nonetheless.

Whether it was stupid or not, however, was irrelevant, the question had been directed at him and it was meant to be answered. This was nearly impossible though because he couldn't breathe, let alone talk, and it was only because he was trying not to pass out that Greg heard Grissom's voice at all. He swallowed hard and forced himself to open his eyes and look up into the face of his long time friend and colleague. Greg could see worry and fear etched into every line of it. He hated it. He hated to see Grissom, or anyone for that matter, so worried about him. Eyes filled with fear and pity. It was too painful. Greg tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea washed over him so suddenly that he fell back and gasped. He started to choke and cough as his mouth filled with vomit. Someone grabbed his shoulders and forcibly rolled him up on his side as he started to throw up. Acid burned the back of his throat causing him to choke further, but still he vomited, unable to make himself stop.

When he finally finished he was rolled back onto his back.

"Call 911!!" Greg flinched at the sudden shout. "Greg!" he felt Grissom put his hands on his cheeks and turn his face, "Greg look at me!" Greg tried to look, but the tears in his eyes were blurring images that were already fading in and out. Since his throat was burning too much to attempt to speak he raised his right hand and grabbed Grissom's wrist letting the older man know that he could hear and understand him. A sigh of relief told Greg that Grissom had gotten the message.

"Gil I called 911 and they're on their way, how is he?" The voice that came from the door seemed familiar to him, but Greg was so disoriented and exhausted that he couldn't place it.

"He just threw up, is having trouble breathing, and he has a high fever, but he seems to still be conscious," Grissom lifted his right hand form Greg's face and brushed the lab tech's sweaty bangs out of his eyes, "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing though. What's the ETA on the paramedics?"

"Five minutes." Greg felt slight vibrations in the floor of someone quickly walking toward them. The footsteps stopped by his head and suddenly Nick Stokes's face came into view as he lead over, "Hey Greggo," he whispered, "How ya doin'?"

Greg's breathing was getting more and more ragged as he continued struggling to stay conscious, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, "Never… (breath) better…," he gasped. Both Nick and Grissom smiled and Greg managed to smile weakly back. Suddenly his body tensed and his muscles tightened painfully.

"Greg?" Grissom's voice was sharp with concern as he gave him a little shake, "Greg! " Grissom shook a little harder. Greg could feel his hand, still around Grissom's wrist, tighten. His jaw clenched so hard that he was afraid he would break all of his teeth. His eyes rolled back into his head as his back began to arch and slam back into the floor. His muscles started to contract and relax so fast and hard that it took several seconds for anyone to understand what was happening.

"He's convulsing!"

This time Greg could barely process that he had heard a voice let alone tell who it belonged to. The convulsions were excruciatingly painful as his body jerked and flailed making every movement feel as though someone had stuck an electric current into his body. His body slammed into the ground over and over as he desperately tried to regain control, but the spasms kept on coming. A series of sickening cracks that seemed to be coming from the reign of his head echoed in his ears. He wanted to die, if not for anything then just to make the pain go away.

Finally, mercifully, his muscles relaxed and he was able to regain control of himself. He knew that both Nick and Grissom were staring at him in horror. They were waiting to some signs of life from the younger man and Greg knew that now was the time to tell them. He could still feel his hand wrapped tightly around Grissom's wrist, but the seizure had drained him of the last of his energy so he just laid there in agony trying to hold out just a little longer. He couldn't let them call his grandparents; _they_ would find him for sure. There was only one person, apart from his team, that he trusted, and he needed to make sure that he was contacted first. Greg slowly opened his eyes and turned his head so that they met Grissom's. Although he wasn't sure whether he said it out loud or just thought it, a name and number kept echoing in his mind before he passed out. 212-555-0121. Detective Danny Messer.


	2. Cause For Alarm

Sunday, May 5 2009 11:30 PM

Supervisor of the night shift Gilbert Grissom looked over the two slips of paper in his hand and sighed. Both slip held a different crime scene with different circumstances, but both were, unfortunately, 419s. Dead human bodies. He sighed again, it always astounded him how they could catch one killer and then two more would appear. It sometimes got to the point where he would wonder if what they were doing was actually worth it. Grissom shook his head to clear out the depressing train of thought and walked out of his office and down the hall into the conference room where the rest of his team was waiting for him, "Catharine," he starts.

"What'd you got for me Gil?" she says with a half smile

Grissom holds out one of the slips of paper, "419 over on Figueroa. Body of a woman found nude on someone's front lawn. He hands Catharine the paper before turning. "Warrick," he addressed the dark skinned CSI "male DB found at the Rampart casino. This one is particularly gruesome so be careful."

Grissom holds out the second slip of paper and Warrick takes it, "Got it Gil," he turns to look at his friend, "Let's go Nicky."

"Actually, I need Nick to stay here." Nick, who was halfway out of his chair, looked at Grissom curiously. "Greg is swamped with over two dozen cases and, against my better judgement and lab polocy, has just started a quadruple," Grissom explained, "Since it is a relatively slow night I thought we could give him a hand"

Nick's expression turned from confused to understanding to concern in less time than a traffic light, "A quadruple?" He cast his eyes around to the other three concerned faces, "How is he still functioning?"

Grissom shrugged his shoulders, "Commitment?" he said lamely

Catharine looked at him skeptically, "There's commitment and then there's just plain crazy." She stood up, concern still visible in her eyes and turned to Warrick, "Well come on Warrick." She motioned toward the door with the paper. Warrick followed a little reluctantly. It was evident that both of the CSIs were worried about there resident lab rat, but since nothing could be done they decided to get on with there cases. Catharine was partially out the door before she turned around and stuck his head back in.

"Hey Gris tell Sanders to take it easy. I mean we appreciate him working so hard but if he doesn't take a break all that work is gonna kill him."

Grissom smiled as he watched her disappear. As soon as she was gone however it disappeared too. He was also worried about their lab tech.

"Hey Griss," Grissom turned to see Nick staring at him, the young texans dark brown eyes demanding answers, "What's going on?"

"I don't know Nick," the other man took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I really don't know."

"Well have you talked to him?"

"Every time I try he says he's fine and changes the subject." Grissom sighed and put his glasses back on, "and if he doesn't want to talk about it we can't make him."

"But Griss..."

Grissom lifted up his hand, "I'm worried about him too Nick and I have every intention to figure out what's really going on, but forcing him to tell us now when he is obviously both physically and mentally exhausted won't get us anywhere. He'll need to come to us." Nick looked like he was about to protest so Grissom quickly added, "I am however going to make sure he takes some of that two weeks of vacation time he has saved up."

Nick didn't look satisfied but he didn't push the issue. Instead he walked out of the conference room and into one of the labs. Grissom stood there for a minute before following. He wasn't satisfied with the answers he had given Nick either, but there was nothing he could do. It wasn't as if he could make Greg do anything, the kid had a mind of his own, which was evident with his decision to come in today even though he wouldn't be getting paid. He looked through the glass wall of the lab to see the spiky haired lab tech looking through one of the scopes. It was true that he had no idea what was wrong with Greg, but he had recently found out the reason for the boy's inability to go home. Someone was after him.

Grissom ran his hands through his hair. As soon as he had heard about Greg's suspicions he had wanted to put the younger man under protective custody and have the others investigate, but Greg practically begged him not to. Greg had never looked so desperate before so Grissom had let him stay here, working of course, and had agreed not to tell the others until he was certain he was in danger.

Grissom didn't know it but he would soon regret not sending Greg home.


	3. Blood Bath

Monday May 6. 2009 12:01 AM

Warrick Brown arrived at the scene and immediately cursed himself for not asking Catharine to switch cases with him. As soon as he had stepped out of his Denali and walked into the casino his old addiction smashed into him like a brick wall. The ever present jingle of slot machines teased their way into his brain like one of those annoying MTV songs that you hated but always ended up remembering the words to. Cards from the black jack and Texas hold-am tables fluttered like feathers as the dealer spread them and turned them. And, of course, in between every lull in the jingles a spew of curses sounded as the house won yet another. Warrick shook his head angrily and turned right.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head as he forced himself to walk past the distractions and to the elevator, which he took immediantly to the ninth floor. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus on what he had to do. Once he got to the scene he would have to put on booties, dust for prints, and take pictures and measurements, not necessarily in that order. Forcing himself to focus on his wark had beed a trick that Grissom had shown him, he had used it to keep his emotions in check during particularly difficult cases but it worked just the same for this situation. He had just calmed down and picked up his case when the elevator reached its destination. As soon as the doors opened however, his mind was ripped away from both gambling and work, in fact his mind was completely blanked for several seconds as he looked at the scene in front of him. All he could do was stand there and stair at the horror before him.

The body of what used to be a 30-some year old white male was pinned to one side hallway with what looked like javelins, one through each shoulder. The body hung there like some grotesque form of art. That, however, was not why Warrick was staring. Whoever had killed this man had wanted to make it so that it was all but impossible to identify. Both the victim's hands had been removed along with both his feet and the head. Whatever the criminal had used to remove the appendages had left clean cut marks on the bone, but it had been obvious that this had been done while he was still alive. Blood was everywhere.

The wall opposite the victim, which used to be a cream color, was now almost black. Spray had reached almost to the end of the hallway and had completely covered the end in which Warrick stood. Large red droplets dripped off the ceiling into the already soaked carpet. Light from the hall lamps on both sides of the hallway were almost completely blocked and what light came off of them cast an eerie red glow on everyone. It was as though not even the light of day wanted to illuminate the massacre.

It took Warrick about five minutes to finally close his mouth and swallow; he then made his way, tentatively, over to the victim. He had to duck a little to avoid the javelin, but he was able to finally get in front of the body. 'This is really messed up' he thought dismally as he set to work.

He had brought his silver crime scene kit with him, which he held so as not to get the bottom bloody or disturb the scene, and was trying to open it when a voice from behind him asked.

"Want me to hold that for you Rick?" Warrick turned to his left to see Captain Jim Brass standing in an open doorway beside the vic.

"Hey Brass," Warrick tried to smile but it seemed wrong in the face of such violence so he held out his case to Brass instead, "thanks." Brass took the case a held it while Warrick took out a pair of gloves and, after putting on the gloves, a bottle of fingerprint powder. He then started to dust for prints in the only places that were strangely devoid of blood, the javelins. As he dusted he couldn't help but think of how very glad he was that Cath couldn't see.


	4. Confusion

Sunday May 5, 2009 11:45 PM

"What do you think happened here?" Catharine brushed her hair behind her ears and looked up at Detective Vega.

"I honestly have no idea." She replied worriedly. She looked at the confirmed body of 36 year old Kenta Morgan and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in her stomach. Kenta was (used to be) a pretty brunette with deep blue eyes and shiny white teeth, but that was not what was bothering Cath. What was bothering her was the fact that there seemed to be absolutely no indication of how she died. There were no stab wounds or puncture marks nor where there signs of bruising or, for that matter, any visible trauma. If it wasn't for the fact that she was lying face down in the dirt, completely nude with only blood red nail polish on then Cath would have thought that she had just stopped in her tracks and died.

Catharine stretched a gloved hand toward the body and brushed the hair off the neck so that she could get a better look. That was when she noticed that Kenta's hair was wet.

'What the hell?' Cath took out her flashlight so that she could look closer; 'Damn' she thought sourly, 'he washed her before he dumped her.' She sat back on her haunches and looked around. The crime scene was in the middle of a residential neighborhood where anyone could have noticed anything, but like always people either weren't talking or didn't see anything until they conveniently looked out their windows at quarter to midnight. She sighed and stood up to start processing the scene until David could get there to take the body back to the morgue.


	5. Possible Connection

Monday May 6. 2009 1:30 AM

Doctor Al Robbins had just finished Warrick's DB and was starting on Catharine's when he noticed something. The nail polish, that had once been a deep blood red in color, was now reddish-brown and slightly sticky. Doc Robbins immediately picked up a magnifying glass and looked at her nails. A confused look crossed his face for a moment as he turned and looked from Warrick's DB to Catharine's. So absorbed he was in what he was doing that he didn't notice the two CSIs walk in until...

"Hey Doc you lose something?" Al jumped and spun around to see Catharine and Warrick staring at him. Warrick put up his hands, "Whoa sorry Doc didn't mean to scare ya."

"It's ok Rick" Al tried to slow his pounding heart

"What cha lookin at?" Warrick motioned to the magnifying glass still in Al's hand.

"Oh this," Al turned back to the body of Ms. Morgan and looked at her nail one more time before nodding and putting down the glass. Without looking at the others he said, "I found what appears to be blood on the victim's nail instead of actual polish"

"What!?" Catharine and Warrick exclaimed in unison

"It is, "Al said nonchalantly, "but that's not the strange part." He pulled out a swab and took a sample of blood from Ms. Morgan's body before turning around to face the two baffled CSIs. He held up the swab for them to see. "As you can see this blood is a darker shade of red and almost dry indicating that it has been on the nails for a long time, but I can't find any wounds on the victim that suggest that she was cut or bleeding in any way."

"So what was her cause of death?" Catharine inquired

"I'm not sure yet," Al put down the swab and gestured toward the John Doe, "but I bet you can tell what he died from."

"Bled out?"

"Yup"

"So he was alive when this psycho started to cut him up?" Warrick snarled as Al nodded. "Did you find anything we could use to get this bastard?"

"Well I set Ms. Morgan's and John Doe's blood over to trace and tox to be analyzed, but we won't know the results for some time and other then the blood or her nails I found nothing of use on Ms. Morgan. I did however find something of interest in our male vic's left lung." Al held up an x-ray so to the light Catharine and Warrick could see and pointed at a circular looking mass, roughly the size of a Clementine.

"What is that?"

"Not sure Cath, but I sent it to Greg to see what he can make of it."

"Sanders is _still_ here?"Warrick frowned, "What is up with him lately?"

"Not sure," Al turned from the duo so that they wouldn't see his eyes.

"Well let's go find out shall we. Thank Doc." Al watched them leave.

_For Greg's sake I hope you never do_ he though solemnly before he returned to his work.


	6. White Powder

Monday May 6, 2009 12:00 AM

The coolness of the comparison microscope felt good on his forehead. He knew he should get back to the fibers he was supposed to be analyzing, but he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.

_Just for one second,_ he thought tiredly, _I'll just...close my eyes...for one..._

"Greg?" A heavy hand fell on the lab techs shoulder startling him into consciousness. He quickly looked up to see Grissom's slightly worried face. "I'd ask how you're holding up, but..." he trailed off as Nick came in the door. He took one look at Greg and started to chuckle.

"Hey Greggo, looks like all that time on the scope has left an impression on you." Greg's hand quickly went to his head. Sure enough there was an imprint of the microscopes eyepieces on his fore head. He groaned. Nick's smirk fell and he opened his mouth to say something, but Grissom interrupted.

"Nick why don't you start looking at the blood samples Warrick brought back"

"'Kay Griss." He shot Greg one final look then turned and walked to the other side of the lab. Greg looked at Grissom, confused.

"I thought you just gave out the assignments." His glanced at the clock and groaned again. Two hour had gone by since he had closed his eyes "for a moment." He rubbed his eyes and felt the hand on his shoulder gently squeeze.

"Greg," Grissom spoke softly, "I know you're scared, but running yourself ragged like this is not going to help us find him."

"I know." Greg moaned, "I know, but I don't know what to do"

"There's nothing more you can do right now." Grissom suddenly leaned close to the younger man's ear and whispered, "Do you have a place to stay?"

Greg shook his head and a faint smile brushed his lips, "Griss I can't stay with you."

"Why not?" the smile on Greg's face was mirrored by the frown on Grissom's.

"One, because I don't want you to become a target for that maniac so called father of mine and two, because right now the lab is the only place I feel truly safe " Greg looked at Grissom again and saw a slight trace of concern. He also saw Nick looking at them from the next room. Grissom also saw Nick and stood up, taking his hand off Greg's shoulder.

"One more day Greg," He held up one finger to make his point, "I can allow you to stay one more day then you will have to stay somewhere and since only Doc Robbins and I truly know about your past...." He let his words hang in the air as he grabbed some of Catharine's trace and sat down to process.

Greg sighed and thought about what had just been said. He knew that Grissom was right and that he needed to find a place to stay, but he was just so scared. Grissom had also been right about the fact that he was the only one who really knew what had happened that night. Well him and Doc Robbins. After all he had been there too when his mother...No he couldn't think about that now. He shook his head and stood up and walked over to a table with the evidence from Warrick's vic on it. He quickly put on a new pair of gloves and picked up one of the plastic bags.

He carefully removed the evidence tape, opened the bag, and took out pulled out the small circular object that Doc Robbins had sent over. Bringing it over to a movable magnifying glass he dusted for finger prints and then swabbed it. Finding no prints he slowly turned it over and over in his hands, examining every part for trace. He pushed the magnifying glass away and was just about to put the ball like thing back in the evidence bag when it suddenly it started to shake. Intrigued Greg lifted it closer to his face to get a better look. Then it exploded.

A cloud of white smoke erupted from the metal object immediately forcing its way into Greg's nose and throat as he gasped in surprise. Swatting his left hand in front of him while simultaneously covering his mouth and nose with his right he back quickly away. He didn't feel himself back into a cart full of test tubes, but he heard them shatter as they fell to the ground. He tried to cough whatever it was out of his lungs, but he knew he had already inhaled too much. He started to feel dizzy and his heart started to pound painfully in his chest. Somebody was at his side and trying to get his attention, but the dizziness was suddenly everywhere, clouding everything and for a while he swayed precariously back and forth until his brain, unable to take anymore spinning around, went blank and he collapsed.


	7. Convulsions

Monday May 6, 2009 2:15 AM

Shattering glass made Nick's head snap up. He saw Greg, just visible behind a cloud of white powder, coughing into the sleeve of his lab coat as he tried to fan the powder away. Grissom had shot out of his seat and was at the young lab tech's side before Nick could even wrap his brain around what was happening. Nick was still sitting there a little stunned when Greg collapsed.

"Greg! Are you alright!" Grissom's voice snapped his mind back into reality and he rushed into the adjoining room in time to see Greg start to vomit blood. "Call 911!" Grissom shouted. Nick ripped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed quickly.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"This is CSI Nick Stocks of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We have a possible poisoning and need an ambulance right away!"

"An ambulance is on its way and should be there soon."

"How soon?"

"Don't worry sir it will be there..."

"How soon!"

"About five minutes."

"Thank you." Without waiting for a response Nick snapped the phone shut. "Gil I called 911 and they're on their way," Nick looked at Greg, "how is he?"

"He just threw up blood, is having trouble breathing, and his whole body is on fire, but he seems to still be conscious," Nick watched as Grissom lifted his hand form Greg's face and brushed the lab tech's sweaty bangs out of his eyes, "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing though. What's the ETA on the paramedics?"

"Five minutes." Walking over to his fallen friend Nick couldn't help but feel worried for the man he thought of as a younger brother. He knelt by Greg's head and leaned over so that he could see him better. He noticed that Grissom's hands were resting on Greg's cheeks and that Greg's was practically crushing Grissom's wrist. "Hey Greggo. How ya doin'?"

Nick could see Greg struggle for breath, "Never (gasp) better." Nick looked at his boss with a slight smirk on his face. It vanished quickly though as Grissom's face suddenly became worried and he started to shake the younger man.

Greg?" Nick noticed that his friend's body had become as stiff as a board and he wasn't moving, "Greg!" Grissom called again and shook Greg's body, but there was still no response. And then all hell broke loose. Greg's eyes suddenly rolled back into his head as his body began to seize. Nick watched in horror as the younger man's body started to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. With each violent spasm there was a sickening crack as Greg's head, along with various other body parts, smashed into and bounced off of the floor.

"He's convulsing! Nick, give me your jacket!" Grissom's voice snapped Nick out of his own head and he quickly ripped off his lab jacket and thrust it at his boss. "Put it under his head to cushion it so he doesn't crush the back of his head." The older man suddenly grabbed either side of Greg's head and attempted to hold it still while Nick balled up his jacket and put it under the young blonde's head. It seemed to go on forever and it was all Nick could to do to keep it together as he tried to block out the sounds and sights of Greg's pain. Finally it stopped and Greg seemed to relax.

For a moment Greg looked as though he was about to pass out. Indeed it would have been better for him. He looked so pale and fragile that Nick turned to look away, afraid he might be sick, when a sharp intake of breath made him start. Greg had somehow forced his eyes open and was looking intently at Grissom. "212-947-8803 Detective Danny Messer." His whisper was barely audible before he passed out.


	8. Finding Out

Monday May 6, 10:00 AM

New York

"What have you got for me Montana?"

Lindsay looked up from the microscope and smiled, "You'll never guess."

Danny watched cautiously as the brunette practically jumped up and down in excitement, "I don't know what?"

Lindsay pouted slightly, "Awww come on, you're not even going to guess?"

Danny smirked slightly at her face and sighed, "Alright, alright...um you got the killers ID?" Lindsay shook her head excitedly, "fingerprints?" again Lindsay shook her head. Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Come on Linds what is it?"

Lindsay frowned for a moment, "Party Pooper, Alright I'll tell you, the victim and the culprit have a familial match." Quickly running over to the printer Lindsay grabbed a piece of paper and holds it out to Danny.

"What?" He snatches the paper from her. Glancing up and down the paper Danny shakes his head, "This means that this psycho killed his own brother?"

Lindsay nodded her head, suddenly turning solemn, and turned toward the computer, "Fortunately for us though, I was able to check the county birth records and found that Richards, the victim, had a twin brother that was put up for adoption," Lindsay clicked the mouse and printed out the address of the adoption center, "the mother never even named the baby."

"I bet he didn't even know he was adopted." Danny said almost to himself

"Never was."

"Alright thanks Linds," with a nod Danny left the room and started walking toward the elevator, he needed to go to the adoption center to see if he could get the name of the killer before he struck again. He was just about to get into the elevator when someone called his name. Turning around he saw Sarah, the receptionist, wave him over.

"What's up Sarah? I'm just about to go somewhere."

"Awww Danno by nice to the lady, besides you're not going anywhere without me." Flack smiled as he walked up to his friend.

"Hey Flack I was just about to call you." Danny plastered his trade mark grin on his face.

"Uh huh." Flack crossed his arms, "Was this call gonna take place before or after you went to the clinic?"

Danny face turned sheepish. Flack shook his head.

"Honestly Danny you're going to get yourself in trouble."

Danny shrugged, "What can I say, I'm curious."

"Um Detective Messer?" Danny and Flack turned around to see Sarah giving them a slightly annoyed look.

Danny grinned again "Sorry 'bout that, what do you need,"

"There's a phone call for you from a mister Gil Grissom." Danny furrowed his brow, "He says he's from the Las Vegas Crime L...ahhh!"

"Whoa man where's the fire!" Flack shouted as he rushed to save the receptionist.

Upon hearing where the call was from Danny had lunged at the phone startling Sarah so bad that she had fallen out of her chair. Mumbling a quick apology Danny grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"This is Detective Messer."

Flack had just gotten Sarah off the floor and had turned back to give the smaller agent a piece of his mind when he saw Danny's face pale. Anger turned into curiosity, but quickly melted into concern when his friends face took on an emotion that he hadn't seen in years.

Fear.

Flack frowned as he looked at the bespeckled man. In all the years Flack had know him Danny had never shown his fear so openly before, nor had he seen him look so terrified.

"Yes, sir." Danny continued to speak into the phone, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Hanging up the phone Danny quickly grabbed a piece of paper, jotted down an address and shot of toward Mac's office.

Hearing the doors to his office nearly crack as they were thrown open, Mac snapped his head up to yell at whoever had disturbed him only to meet the eyes of a very agitated Danny.

"Danny, what is it?" Mac's voice was a little bit harsh as he fished for an answer hoping that his subordinate didn't just barge in there to tell him he was sick.

Without pausing for breath Danny walked to the side of Mac's desk, leaned down and whispered what had happened into his ear. He had to whisper because his actions had drawn a bit of a crowd and now Flack, Lindsay, Sheldon, Stella, and Adam were joining them in the office.

The others watched as Mac's eyes widened and a look of near panic crossed his features before he quickly hid it and turned to Danny.

"Are you sure about this?"

Danny nodded, "I just got a call from his boss..."

"And?"

"According to Gil he hasn't slept in days, barely eats, and is afraid to go home."

Mac nodded slowly, "Alright you go and check it out, but keep me informed, I don't want anything else to happen."

Flashing a look of gratefulness, Danny turned to leave the room only to be stopped by a wall of people. Dropping his head so as to avoid any eye contact he sidestepped his friends and left the room practically running toward the elevator.

Five sets of eyes watched as Danny left before turning back to Mac. "Before anyone says anything, Danny is going to Las Vegas. A close friend of his has been injured and he is going to make sure they are okay. Until he gets back I want everyone to return to their cases and not worry about this, it that understood?"

Five heads reluctantly nodded as four people left the room.

Adam waited until only he and Mac were left before speaking, "It's about Greg isn't it?"

Mac, who was now deep in thought, shot a glare at Adam, before realizing who spoke. Nodding solemnly Mac interlocked his fingers and placed his hands under his chin.

"Then is it really a good idea to let Danny go?"

"You know as well as I do that no matter what I said Danny would have gone anyway."

"Yes, but there is still a conflict of interest..."

"Adam!" the red head stopped as Mac's hand hit the table. Taking a deep breath Mac calmed himself a little before continuing, "Look I know you're worry and so am I, but there is nothing we can do now except go back to work and wait for news."

Adam bowed his head, "Sorry."

Mac let out the angry breath he had been holding and returned to the paper work he had been trying to do when Danny had first burst in.

Clearing his throat Adam turned toward the door, "Well if you need anything you know where I am."

Mac closed his eyes and listened to the sudden noise increase to cease instantly regretting raising his voice to Adam. He knew that the younger man was only worried about his friend and that he would have to apologize later, but right now his only concern was stopping that man before he hurt anyone else.


	9. On the Other Side

Monday May 6, 10:00 AM

Las Vegas

After placing the call to Detective Messer a little over three hours ago Grissom had delved head first into the case. In fact everyone from the night shift to the day shift was working on this case. No one messed with someone in their lab without expecting consequences.

Not that they knew everything.

After Greg had been rushed to the hospital both Grissom and Doc Robbins had decided to wait till they had more evidence before placing the blame were they both knew it should be. Grissom's conversation with Danny had been enough to prove that.

Grissom sighed as he replayed the conversation with the young man in his head.

"_This is Detective Messer."_

_Grissom was surprised to hear the tense New York accent come through the line. It was like he already knew what the older man would say. It made him nervous_

"_Detective Messer this is Supervisory Agent Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab I'm calling on behalf of Gregory Sanders." Gil heard a sharp intake of breath before he continued, "Mister Sanders was attacked earlier today in the lab and he said that you were the person to call."_

"_Where is he now?"_

"_He was placed in the intensive care unit at the hospital just a few minutes ago."_

"_How was he before the attack?"_

_It took Grissom a moment to answer, "Not good," figuring that Danny might know more than he was letting on Grissom decided to fish a little, "He just started a quadruple shift."_

_He heard Danny curse lightly, "That means he probably hasn't been eating or sleeping either."_

_Grissom's voice took on a surprised tone, "How did you know?"_

"_It is the same as last time."_

_This time Grissom's voice lowered in suspicion, "Detective if you know something about this attack then I suggest you tell me."_

_This time Danny growled into the phone, "I don't think I can tell you what you already know."_

_Deciding to go out on a limb Grissom made a snap decision, "Detective Messer I would like you to come to Las Vegas and help us catch whoever did this."_

"_And Greg?"_

_Grissom couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as he gave Danny the address of the hospital, but he also felt anxious that he would be discussing Greg's life with a stranger. "Did you get all that detective?"_

"_Yes sir. I'll be there as soon as I can." After that Danny hung up_

Grissom was still not sure if he made the right decision, but he trusted Greg and if he was willing to trust this person from New York then the least Grissom could do was to show a little trust himself.

A light knock on the door made him look up.

In the door stood a smallish man with brown blonde hair and troubled blue eyes. "Mister Grissom?"

"Grissom will be fine," walking from behind his desk Gil held out a hand to Danny, "and you're Detective Messer I presume,"

"Danny." The normally strong accent seemed tired.

"Danny." Grissom nodded, "I take it you haven't seen Greg yet."

Danny shook his head as he sat down in one of the seats in front of Gil's desk, "I wanted to know what happened first."

Gil gave a slight nod before relaying to Danny what had happened. "I first noticed something was wrong when he was at work on his day off..." he then proceeded to explain how he had noticed that Greg had been working through lunch breaks and how he seemed more agitated than normal.

"That's when you figured out it had something to do with his father?" catching the suspicious eyes Danny added, "I guess I'd better explain. I knew Greg in New York; he was a...special friend."

Grissom's eyes widened for a minute before he nodded and quickly moved to his desk on the pretense of organizing papers, "Only two people in this lab know about Greg's past; one is the coroner Dr. Albert Robbins, he processed the bodies, and the other was myself...I found him." Danny lowered his eyes as Grissom's voice softened and his eyes took on a glazed look. The dirty blonde man knew exactly what Grissom was feeling. He had been the first one that Greg had called. He had been on the phone at the time of the attack. Had heard the screams.

Shaking his head Danny forced the memories away and cleared his throat. This seemed to spur Grissom out of his own haze, "Sorry."Grissom shifted his attention back to his paper only glancing up through his eyelashes when he was sure the other wasn't looking to see if he had reacted or changed his demeanor in any way.

He hadn't.

"Your earlier assumption was correct, it did have something to do with Greg's father, more specifically it had something to do with his father escaping prison."

Danny inhaled sharply and stared at the salt and pepper man as though willing him to say it wasn't true and that he had lied. When no such comfort came the younger man slowly removed his glasses and dropped his head into his hands. "I thought he was supposed to be in solitary confinement in the supermax."

"So did I," Grissom's voice turned steely, "but apparently being a model prisoner wipes away past sins." He shook his head, "Anyway, this is what we know so far; three weeks ago Jefferson Sanders was sentenced to solitary confinement for starting a prison riot that caused three people their lives. A week later a local guard was making his rounds when he noticed the door to Jefferson's cell was wide open and his prisoner gone. Neither he nor the warden knew what had happened, but both knew it had to be an inside job. Upon searching each of the guards it was found that one, a mister Phillip Castral, was missing from his post at the watch tower."

Danny looked up hopefully at Grissom, but the older man shook his head sadly, "Mister Castral was found dead in his house that very day from two gunshot wounds to the head, all of his prison credentials were missing."

Danny swallowed anxiously, "So we have no idea where he is?"

Grissom shook his head, "By the time prison official realized what had happened he was already gone."

Danny stood up and started pacing the room, "I don't care what it takes," he stopped and looked at Gil, "we have to catch this guy, we have to. I won't let him hurt Greg again."

Grissom watched the New Yorker pace up and down his office with his hand clenched in rage and for the first time since the detective arrived he began to relax. "Due to your special relationship with Greg I'm sure you know all about me."

Danny stopped his muttering and turned to Gil. He inspected the other man toughly before nodding slowly.

"Then you know there is nothing that I won't do for him." Again a nod, "That is why I would like your help in catching this psycho path before he strikes again."

There was a moment's pause. "As long as he gets what's coming to him then I'm in."

"O trust me he'll get what's coming to him."


	10. Memoria

Monday May 6, 10:30 AM

Desert Springs Hospital

_It was cold._

_Rain was splattering on the window of Greg's apartment and the wind was blowing so hard that it was practically impossible to go outside without walking at a forty-five degree angle. Greg was currently in his kitchen making tea for his mother who was visiting from California._

Beep...beep...beep

_Kaia Sanders laughed happily at something her son had said as she took the tea. Danny's booming guffaw crackled over Greg's cellphone and Greg himself was chuckling, not so much at what he had said, but at Danny's reaction._

"_I gotta tell ya G," Danny gasped out, "that has gotta be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. I can't believe you did that."_

_Greg shrugged at the phone, "Can you blame me? I mean come on, the guy barely gives me the time of day and now suddenly he wants to date me? What does he take me for?"_

"_But don't you think the slap was a little bit overboard?"_

_Now Greg's smile turned sheepish, "It was the first thing to pop into my head."_

_Kaia shook her head knowing full well that Greg would be the first to apologize for his less than mature manner of handling the situation, but also knowing that, until then, her son would exploit every opportunity to laugh at the situation. She smiled lovingly at him over her tea cup and noticed the glint of happiness in his eye as he spoke about the man that had claimed his heart. It was a glint that had been absent ever since he had left New York._

Beep..beep..beep..beep

_There was a loud knock at the door that would have been drowned out by the storm had the wind gods not stopped to take a much needed breath before blowing an even stronger typhoon over the already saturated city. Kaia gently placed her cup down and rose from her seat. Smiling once more at the playful bickering she made her way toward the door._

.

"No...don't, don't open the door."

_She had no sooner reached the door when there was a loud crash. Wood splintered as the door was kicked violently off its hinges. In the now vacant hole in the wall stood a beast of a man with short brown hair, cold grey eyes, and a smile more vicious then any serial killer Greg had ever seen. There was a moment a stillness in which the only sound to be heard was Danny's worried voice coming over the phone. Then chaos erupted. Kaia screamed as the man in the door suddenly drew a gun and fired a shot into the small apartment._

_Greg shot out of his seat as the bullet blew a lamp apart. He was barely out of his seat however when another shot rang out and pain exploded in his shoulder._

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

_His mother screamed again. She tried to rush toward her son, but a strong hand grabbed her arm, spun her around, and slammed her into the wall. Strong hands wrapped around her throat. Greg saw his father's hands crushing his mother's throat and forced himself to stand. Adrenalin spiked through his body and he shot toward the man. With a flying leap he landed on his father's shoulders and ripped him backwards._

_Jefferson Sanders stumbled and crashed onto the floor but recovered himself quickly. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the gun again and fired directly at his son's back._

_Pain erupted in Greg's chest as the bullet tore through one of his lungs and buried itself in his mother's heart. Both of them dropped to the floor. Greg's arms instinctively closed around his mother's body as his body slammed painfully against the floor. Jefferson got up and stalked slowly toward his son._

"_You see what you made me do." He sneered, "If you hadn't been born then I wouldn't have had to do that." Greg blinked blurrily at him, "Well I guess the ends justify right?" With that, he raised the gun and steadied it at Greg's head._

_There was a loud bang and then, darkness._

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.


	11. Final Showdown

Monday May 6, 11:00 AM

Desert Springs Hospital

Jefferson Sanders had slipped into the hospital his son was in by knocking out one of the nurses and dressing in his uniform. After binding and gaging the man he quickly stuffed him into one of the lockers in the break room and made his way into the hospital. He had little trouble finding his son's room. Two guards were standing outside his door. Jefferson hid in a small alcove just across the hall and watched.

At first nothing happened. He could see Greg's body through the glass and at first he just laid there silently. A slight stir of an emotion he couldn't place pricked his subconscious like a splinter. He supposed it was just due to the fact that that boy in the bed being his son, but he had never really felt anything for the boy before so he brushed it off. Suddenly a movement caught his eye and he noticed that Greg had moved slightly in his bed.

Jefferson straightened momentarily as the boy's movement became more jerky and violent. From his angle he had a clear view of the heart monitor attached to Greg's finger, and instead of the soft rhythmic lines that showed a steady heart beat it was beginning to spike out of control. He continued to watch as his son's heart beat faster and faster. Doctors and nurses began to flood into the small room, alerted there by the machines, and began trying to calm their patient down.

A strange sort of protectiveness ceased the older man as one nurse held down the boy's arm while another stuck a needle in him. At the same time a feeling of hurt mixed with dissatisfaction needled at his own brain. He waited until the boy had calmed down and the medical staff left before he made his way from his hiding spot and into the room, his nurses disguise letting him slip easily past the guards. Closing and locking the door behind him he then shut the curtains and made his way over to the bed. Greg seemed to be heavily sedated now as he didn't even flinch when Jefferson gently brushed the bangs out of his face.

"You look so much like your mother you know that."

As expected the boy didn't move nor did he make a sound. Jefferson sighed and sat on the side of the bed and took Greg's hand in his.

"I thought that if I hurt you then I would find some piece. After your mother left and took you away from me I couldn't help but want to destroy the thing that took my love away." He began to slowly run his thumb along the back of Greg's hand. There was a soft clicking sound of the door knob turning against the locks.

"I was so angry at you for taking her love away from me that I took my anger out on you. I suppose I was just afraid of losing her or that she would abandon me for you that I forced the circumstances that led to that very conclusion."

Jefferson looked up as the locks turned harder and the door began to jerk against its frame then back to his son.

"I know now that if I had accepted the way things were and loved you like I should have then perhaps we would be in a different situation wouldn't we."

There was a loud bang and a sense of déjà vu washed over him momentarily as the door blew off its hinges. Almost immediately he found himself surrounded by police officers with their guns raised, but Jefferson had moved faster. There had been a slight lull in the noises outside as whoever was on the other side of the door got ready to kick it in, and it was in those few seconds that the convict had made his move. Slipping the gun from the waist band of his pants he grabbed his son's arm and pulled him up into a sitting position, he then circled his other arm around the boy's torso and positioned the gun under his chin.

Two men burst into the room, guns drawn, and blanched at the sight.

"Nobody move." Jefferson snapped at them, "or I blow his head off."

The one on the right gritted his teeth while the one on the left shot a worried glance at the unconscious body before narrowing his eyes, "Jefferson Sander's drop your gun and let him go." Jefferson just shook his head.

"I can't do that, not until I make things right."

"How is this making things right Jefferson?" this time it was the one on the right who spoke, his heavy New York accent filled with fire, "How is killing your own son going to take back everything you did to him?"

Jefferson blinked at him. He knew that voice; it was the same one that kept calling his son's name that night three years ago. For a moment he let his eyes travel over the man before returning it to the older one. Both still had their eyes trained on him. "It is because he is my son that I have to do this."

Both men blinked, but it was the older one who spoke, "What do you mean by that?"

Jefferson shook his head and moved the gun out from under Greg's chin and pressed it against his temple. They would never understand.

He pulled back the hammer and placed the muzzle flush against his son's skin. Shouts for him to drop his weapon were bouncing off the walls and mixing with the terrified screams of those who could see the chaos outside the window but he blocked them out. He needed to do this, he needed to set things right.

"Don't worry Kaia, Greg'll be home soon."

He pulled the trigger and for a moment it rained red.


	12. Closure

May 8, 4:00 PM

Las Vegas Cemetery

He stood looking at the gravestone in a sort of melancholy contemplation. He really couldn't believe it. After all those years of wondering and feeling guilty and scared, it was all over. The man before him lie dead, and he was still alive.

"How does it feel?" Danny spoke softly next to him as though trying not to break the stillness that lay around them. The effect was like throwing a rock at a plate glass window.

Greg looked up from his father's tomb to smile bitterly at his friend. "It feels the same as always. He was never in my life to begin with so it's really not that different now that he's not anymore." He shrugged before turning back to the lone grey slab (he had made sure his father was buried as far away from his mother as possible) "and it's not like it's not the first time he tried to kill me." Danny blinked at him but didn't say anything.

Instead he rested his hand on his long time friend's shoulder.

For a long time the two of them stood there not saying anything.

Grissom was alone in his office trying to get some paperwork done, but his mind kept flashing back to two nights ago.

If that officer hadn't been outside the window.

Grissom shook his head. He wouldn't think about it. Greg was alive and well and...there was a soft knock at the door.

Without waiting to be invited in Greg stepped through the door, closed it, and locked it behind him.

"Hey Gil." He said softly, "how're you holding up?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Grissom watched as Greg walking slowly around his desk before leaning gently against it. The blonde shrugged.

"Like I told Danny, it really doesn't feel much different from when he was locked up."

Grissom could tell he was lying, but he said nothing. Instead he placed a comforting hand on the trembling thigh next to him.

"Where is Detective Messer?"

"He's staying at a hotel tonight and heading out on the first flight tomorrow."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, "He's leaving so soon?"

Greg shrugged again, "Mac, Danny boss, needs him in New York, besides, he knows my number so he can get in touch with me whenever he wants. I think he also knew that I wouldn't really be available for a while."

Grissom cocked his head in confusion, "Are you planning on going somewhere?"

Turning his head to Grissom, Greg allowed himself to smile, "That depends. Is that invitation to stay with you still open?"

The older man blinked before smiling. Rolling his chair away from his desk Grissom reached up, grabbed Greg's arm, and pulled the younger man into his lap.

"For you Greg," he whispered into the blonde's hair, "always."

Greg let out a slightly choked sigh as he raised his arms to clutch at Grissom's back.

He hadn't lied to them. He would be okay.

Just not right now.


End file.
